Finally Some Time for Reflection
by Sparkle E. Slugg
Summary: 1shot, during 'Return of the King'. S1 spoilers Will Scarlett's finally heading back. Back to a life that doesn't include eating squirrel and sleeping on roots. Back to what he knows and loves. The only question is: Does he love it as much as he used to


He'd really liked carpentry.

Well, he'd been raised to it. His mother used to say that Will'd made his own crib, just four days out of the womb. His father'd taken him into the workshop to watch how it was done before Will could walk. He'd always been a carpenter. Wherever he went in Locksley, whoever he visited or saw, he could point to the work they'd had done by his dad, and his granddad. And later, work he'd helped out on, or even done himself.

He was good at it, too. There wasn't a thing that he couldn't do with a piece of wood and some tools. His father'd said that. He also just liked the work. You start with something that was a tree only that morning, and after a few hours (or a few days) you'd made something new. Different. And you'd done it yourself, working. Hammering, sawing, and almost bending the wood to your thought of what it would be. It was almost like playing God, and while working Will could forget his troubles and just _make_ something.

He liked carpentry. He truly did.

So it was troubling, this sour feeling he got now that he was going to be going back to it.

It'd started when they'd been outside Pitts' house, waiting for the physician to return so Robin could question him about Gisbourne's illness while Robin'd been away. Much, Will, and Allen'd been hanging around outside, just talking while they watched the streets. And Much had asked what they'd all do once they were done with the Gang. Will'd answered 'carpentry' without a thought, because there was never a thought where carpentry was concerned. It was just what he did; what he was used to and good at and who he was. So he was surprised when he felt something tasting almost like disgust following the word out of his mouth.

They'd always known the Gang wasn't going to be forever. From the very start, it was fairly open that they'd only be together until the King returned. Because that was the point, wasn't it? When they stole and foiled the Sheriff, it was to stop him from harming their home _until the King returned_, so he could do it for them. Kings're a lot better at that sort of thing, in general, and there's only so much six outlaws can handle. So yeah, Will knew that the Gang was temporary. Of course he knew. But now it was _real_. The Gang was over.

The sour taste bothered him. But there wasn't time to thing much about it. That's the way it was, usually. When you're living on your wits and not much else, there isn't much time for heavy introspection. He had to push his sudden confliction to the back of his mind and get to work. Protect the gang, sneak through places he wasn't supposed to be, save Marian—there wasn't time for reflection in any of it.

Well, there was time for it after they'd left Locksley Manor. But other _things_ were blocking what he really wanted to pick at. It had started to rain- _properly_ rain- and he was properly soaked, too. Allen was running Gisbourne's silver over and over in his hand, and though Will didn't mind the sound of money usually (ha. Who did?) just then it was grating. Allen started talking about taking the money and running, and Will had listened. That was the odd bit, right there. He'd _listened_. Allen was his mate, and they got on, but Will knew not to listen to Allen when Allen was holding money, because Allen just couldn't think straight with gold and silver glinting up into his face. When Allen talked and he had a purse in his hand, Will could usually be sure that even Allen didn't know what Allen was up to.

But Will had listened. Because what Allen had said, about taking the money and making a run for it, had hit something in Will. Maybe it was what he'd been thinking about the Gang, settling itself deep in his stomach and rotting. His dad'd talked about men who'd let cares or events settle in their stomachs until they rotted. Will'd never thought it could happen to him in a matter of _hours_. Allen'd talked them up into leaving, making like Robin would've wanted it for them. Well, Robin did want them to be happy. Will just kept his mind clear and blank, the way his father'd told him to when Gisbourne or the Sheriff's men made him so angry he couldn't see, and forced aside all the thoughts that said Robin probably didn't picture their happiness turning out like this. He just walked. Allen'd come up with the idea of going to Scarborough, to see Will's family. Will hadn't even considered the possibility. He'd been working too hard at keeping his mind blank.

But honestly, it was hard to keep his mind so empty when there wasn't some danger of his flying off into a temper and putting himself or his family in danger. Walking along the sunny path (the rain'd cleared up nicely), he had no angry passion to push against, only reasonable thoughts.

It was the perfect time and place for reflections. So he had to do let himself reflect. It was long overdue.

He'd always liked carpentry. He was good with wood. He was _magic_ with wood.

But maybe… maybe it wasn't all he was good at.

He'd found things out, living in the forest. That he was a good thinker. Before now, he'd always been the hands. The carpenter's son, helping his father and showing a promising talent for it, but never a thinker. But he had a mind in the Gang. He could get into places and out of them. He could find out things no one else could, because he knew where to go. He could make a plan, when even Robin was all out of ideas. And he loved it. All of it. He loved the thinking of it, and he loved the battle too. To run into a mess of enemies and friends with just his two arms and legs and an axe and hatchet, was a thrill he'd never felt before.

All the business with the Gang fighting for the people, and the poor—that had always been why he'd been with them. He'd always wanted to help, because he'd seen firsthand what it was like. He would've, as he'd lived it. But while it was still true, it was lying to himself to pretend that it was the only reason why he stayed with Robin and the others. It was because he really, really _liked_ it.

It wasn't that he liked carpentry less. It was just… he might like this more.

"Allen," Will said finally, speeding up to draw level with the (stolen) horse and the other outlaw. "What're you going back to, now we're leaving?"

Allen thought about it. "Well, I'm not one for the boring, steady life, my friend. I was a poacher the longest, and that was fine, though I think I might wanna stay out of woods for a while after this. I'm not being funny, but if I never see another tree again, it'll be too soon. So yeah, I dunno. I've always fancied starting up a tavern of m'own, to be honest. Should 'ave enough coin now to do it."

"And you'd like that? Runnin' a tavern?"

"Yeah," Allen sounded a little surprised. "What's not t'like? That's the life, isn't it?"

"'Suppose so. I don't like taverns much."

Allen huffed a laugh. "Huge surprise there. So what's for you, then? Carpentry, wasn't it?"

Will waited, lining up what he was thinking before he spoke. "That's what I thought it would be," he said finally. "But now that I'm actually heading back to a workshop… even one with all the tools and space money could buy…" He looked over at his friend.

"Hey, Allen. Let's go back."

"Back? You serious?"

Will looked back the way they'd come, down the road ahead of them, and then down into Allen's startled face. "Yeah."

Allen rolled his eyes, and put both his hands on the top of his head. "I'm not bein' funny here, Will, but think you might've mentioned this before we walked so far? What's all this about? Thought we had it all set up!"

"We do have it all set up," Will said quietly. "But the set-up's waiting for us back in that cave."

Allen put a hand on Will's shoulder, and looked up into his face. "You're serious about this." He stated.

"Yeah." He would've left it at that, but he felt that he owed it to Allen, somehow. "I just… I just don't want it to end. Not like this, anyway. Bein' in the Gang… it's… it's…" he fell into silence again. He felt like his father was standing over him and listening to every word that he said, hearing his oldest son try to push his heritage away from him.

"It's good, is that what you mean?" Allen let go of his shoulder, and turned a little away from him, staring off into the woods. "Gives you more of a purpose. You've found something that you're good at, and what really makes a difference. What's really _living_." Will just gaped. "And…" Allen went on "And you don't want it to end like this."

Will knew full well that they weren't just talking about him now. "I don't think I want it to end at _all_." He said quietly. "I know it has to, sometime. But I can't… I can't leave until the very last second. Because I think of going back to the way things were, and… and it don't connect. We're important, the two of us. To the Gang, to Robin. To Djaq." Allen snapped his head up to look at Will, but Will pressed on before Allen could say anything, because Will was on a role now, and he _had_ to get this out. "And to go back to a life where I don't matter to anyone 'cept as someone who can maybe make a nice table… is miserable."

Allen shifted his weight a little, staring up at the sky. Then he closed his eyes, and let out a loud moan. "And it was so… much… _money!"_ He dropped his head, and put his hands over his eyes.

"Allen, you know we'll just get more."

"Don't speak, Will," Allen said sharply, his head shooting up. "Ever again. I was goin' to be _so rich_. Turn this stupid animal around."

Will took the rains, and turned the horse around obediently, his face carefully blank. But when Allen let out another moan and sank his face into his hands again, Will had to smile a little. He knew the Gang was going to end. He knew that maybe he would have to go back to carpentry after all, and knowing now _why_ he didn't want to didn't help at all. But he was still heading back into the heart of Sherwood. Where, he knew now, he belonged. Even if it would only be for a little while, he would be home.

He'd liked being Will Scarlett, carpenter. But he _was_ Will Scarlett, outlaw and companion of Robin Hood. Even if only for a little while longer.

* * *

**a/n:** I'de love any feedback! I know it's rough, but I wanted to post it ASAP before I forgot about it because yes, that absolutely happens. Please let me know what you think! 


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